Just like a Mirror
by UnexpectedNudity
Summary: SLASH LincolnSixecho. When Lincoln six echo comes to find his benefactor for help, he gets more than he anticipated. After all, Tom is a narcissistic bastard.


"This really is amazing," Tom murmured to himself. He reached out, taking his clone's jaw in hand and turning his head to the side. "Amazing," he said again. "And what did you say your name was?" The clone swallowed nervously and glanced at Jordon, the words 'proximity alert' appearing in his head. Clearly outside the compound proximity was not a problem.

"Um, Lincoln Six Echo." Tom let his hand fall back to his side, but continued to inspect his insurance policy, circling it. He noted the little changes. Lincoln Six Echo was tanner, for example, and seemed stronger. More toned. Still worth the five million, though.

"Mmmm," he mused. "But I am a handsome devil, eh?"

Lincoln chuckled nervously, glancing again to Jordon Two Delta, who was watching in interest. She smiled encouraging at him. After all, this man was going to help them.

"Handsome?" she asked. Tom looked up from Lincoln, remembering that he had only purchased his policy a few years ago. It was hard to remember that these two adults had the life experiences of a toddler. He stepped away from Lincoln, who relaxed.

"Yes my dear. Attractive. Well formed?" This last one she seemed to understand.

"Oh, yes. He is. Lincoln is my best friend." Tom had to raise an eyebrow at this. He looked between the two.

"Best friends?" he asked with a laugh. "You mean you two haven't…?"

"Haven't what?" Lincoln asked, looking interested and completely oblivious.

"You know…done it." Tom waved his hand in a vague gesture.

"Done what?" Jordon asked. She was looking at Tom with a wide-eyed innocence completely out of place on her wickedly beautiful face. Surely the two weren't virgins?

"Had _sex_," Tom said with a sigh. It wasn't often one met someone that didn't understand the euphemisms for the act. The products, however, didn't seem to understand the straight version either.

"Sex?" Lincoln echoed, a small, curious smile on his familiar lips.

"Wow," Tom said, grinning himself. "I really do have a fantastic smile. Oh, I mean, you haven't ever…Neither of you?" No response from the products. "You're virgins." Tom laughed. "Virgins!" Lincoln and Jordon glanced at each other at Tom's strange behavior, but didn't question it. Lincoln's sponsor had already asked them twice not to ask so many stupid questions, and they didn't want to annoy him. "Well, who am I to ruin the surprise, then?" He turned to Jordon. "Well my dear, I'm sure you are both very tired after breaking out of a high security compound in the middle of the desert." He chuckled "How does a shower and a nap sound? I can lend you some clothes." He smiled graciously. Lincoln and Jordon mirrored it.

"Thank you," Jordon said. "So you will help us?"

"I'll do what I can." The clones smiled at him again, and Lincoln took Jordan's arm to lead her up the stairs. "Um, Lincoln, if that's what I'll call you," Tom started. Lincoln paused on the stairs.

"Yes?"

"After you have your shower, I was wondering if we could talk." Lincoln once again broke into a blinding grin.

"I'd like that."

It was a good half hour later when Lincoln finally wandered back downstairs, to be greeted with a strange, but not unpleasant smell.

"Tom?" he ventured. He couldn't see his sponsor anywhere.

"Feel better?" Lincoln jumped as he was spoken to from behind, spinning around. "Now, _I'm_ not that nervous."

"Tom," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "You startled me."

"Yes, I can see that." Tom offered him a mug. "Coffee?" Lincoln took it with interest, sniffing.

"What is it?" he asked. Tom sighed. His clone was just like a child. No sex, no coffee…what a sad way to live.

"It's a drink. It wakes you up. Well, come on then." He led Lincoln into the sitting room and sat him down in a comfy, leather armchair. Tom took an adjacent one, taking a moment to indulge his overwhelming curiosity. He had only just stopped himself from peaking at the clone showering, just to make sure everything was as it should be.

Yes, Lincoln Six Echo had a better complexion, probably from going out in the sun (a practice Tom hadn't had much a taste for in recent times) and seemed a little more filled out. If all the products really were sentient, his own not just a bizarre anomaly or hallucination, their keepers probably kept them in very good shape. Probably had them on a strict diet as well to keep the clients happy. Lincoln cleared his throat.

"Um, I borrowed some of your clothes, I hope they're okay." Tom realized he'd been staring.

"Oh, yes, of course." There was another lull. Lincoln sipped his coffee and started to cough. "A little strong for ya, eh?" Lincoln nodded, and Tom laughed. "I suppose it's an acquired taste." Lincoln smiled shyly and ducked his head.

"Mr. Lincoln," The clone started. "Tom. I-_Will_ you help us?"

"Do you know how strange it is to watch yourself talk? Especially with a completely absurd accent?" Tom asked, resting his head in his hand. Lincoln hesitated, then,

"Yes." There was yet another pause, the two just looking at each other, before Tom burst out laughing.

"Oh, I suppose that was a ridiculous question, wasn't it? Assuming they don't tell you what you are where you come from."

"No, they didn't tell us anything."

"Tell me, what was it like?" Tom asked, setting his mug down on the high-end glass table between them. "Living there."

"Clean."

By the time Lincoln had reached his discovery of his flying bug, the two had abandoned coffee for scotch.

"What did it look like?" Tom asked.

"What did what look like?"

"The bug." Lincoln took another sip of the amber liquid set before him, and considered.

"Well, its body was about as long as my little fingertip, thick as a pencil, and it had these magnificent delicate wings like…" he paused. "I could…draw it for you." Tom raised his eyebrows.

"You can- impressive. Hold on." Lincoln did as he was told, plucking at his black sweater while he waited. It was strange wearing such a variety of clothes after three years of white tracksuits, but he liked it. It made him feel more like the person everyone was trying to tell him he wasn't. It was rather like why he had liked talking to McCord, when he was alive. Humanity was something he had only just realized he'd been missing.

"Here," Tom said, handing him a pencil and paper. Lincoln took them silently, and set about rendering the creature he'd caught. He only registered Tom hovering over him when he'd completed the sketch.

"Wow," Tom said from beside Lincoln's head. "That," he took the paper from his clone's hand, "is a moth."

"Moth," Lincoln repeated slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue. "Are they common?" Tom sat back down in his chair.

"Yes, quite common. Where did you learn to draw, Lincoln?"

"I don't know, I just…can. You can draw, right?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Well I must have gotten it from you." Lincoln looked pleased that he'd deduced that, and Tom smiled. Lincoln was rather like an innocent version of himself. Which, of course, presented an interesting idea. One that he'd had before.

"Lincoln," Tom began, leaning forward in his seat. "Have you ever been kissed?"

Lincoln's face was blank.

"Kissed? I, I don't know," he said. Tom raised an eyebrow, looking at his copy from over the rims of his glasses. He reached back and plucked a frame from the bookcase behind them, tapping it a few times before showing it to Lincoln. It was Tom and a woman, pressing their lips together. Tom pointed to the two people.

"That is a kiss. Have you ever?" Lincoln shook his head. He'd seen that before, though, with Jordan. There had been a video of her in a window doing it. It looked nice.

"No." This time, Tom shook his head, sadly.

"Never been kissed," he muttered to himself. "Looks like me and has never even been kissed."

"We weren't allowed to touch each other. At all." Lincoln replied. His voice was quiet, subdued. Tom leaned over the slim coffee table.

"You weren't allowed?" he asked, incredulous. How could anyone think they could take a community of adults and prevent attraction? Desire? Sex? How many had his product said there were? Something like thousands.

"If anyone got too close, security would come and order them to separate," Lincoln said. Tom got the impression he was avoiding eye contact and suddenly felt a surge of pity for this being. He reached out a hand, laying it on Lincoln's cheek, not overlooking the way his copy turned a little into the touch.

"No one has ever touched you like this?" Tom asked, skimming his thumb along Lincoln's lips. Almost imperceptibly, they parted, and Lincoln swallowed.

"No," he whispered. When they had started whispering, Tom had no idea, but he wasn't too concerned with that. What really concerned him now, were his sudden curiosity and this mirror image of himself acting so pliable, so unsure. He lifted his eyes to meet Lincoln's and saw blatant confusion there. He was completely unguarded.

"Lincoln," Tom said, pulling off his glasses and keeping his voice soft and steady. "Could _I_ kiss you?" There was a deafening pause that made even Tom nervous, before,

"What will it feel like?" Just like a child. Tom smirked a little. He couldn't help it: that was a yes if he'd ever heard one.

"Good," Tom said, sliding his hand behind Lincoln's neck and pulling him forward a little. "It'll feel good." It was something of an awkward kiss, being brief and from either side of a coffee table, but left Lincoln breathless and even more confused about the world then ever. They parted and stayed where they were for a few seconds, perched on the edges of the armchairs, eyes locked together. The absurdity of the situation hit Tom full force as he looked into his _own_ eyes, but he let it drop. This was just too promising to stop now. "How was that?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"Again?"

Tom was up and over the table in a second, pushing Lincoln back into his chair.

Still, it was a relatively tame kiss, just the press of lips. Tom would have nothing of it. As far as he was concerned, his clone deserved the best treatment available. Flicking his tongue along the seam of his copy's lips he asked for a consent that was given instinctively with a tiny sound from the back of Lincoln's throat. Tom pushed his tongue into a very familiar mouth as it opened, coaxing Lincoln to return the action with considerable skill born from considerable experience. Finally, when Tom felt he really needed to breathe, he pulled back. Lincoln's eyes were closed, his lips kiss-red and puffy. Tom wondered briefly whether that was what _he_ looked like after a good snog, because if so, it was obvious why he had so much sex. With a face like thatit was a wonder he'd gone so long without it these last years. Tom stood up, prompting Lincoln's eyes to open.

"Tom?" he asked as the front of his shirt was grabbed and he was pulled up from the chair.

"I'm going to teach you," Tom said. "Would you like that?" He slid a hand through Lincoln's hair, noting that it was lighter than his, almost sandy.

"Teach me?" Lincoln asked, his eyes closed again. Oh, but proximity was wonderful. "About what?"

"About everything you've missed." Tom kissed him again, pressing for the right answer.

"Yes," Lincoln murmured when Tom pulled back. "Teach me." Tom grinned in triumph and took Lincoln's hand. He noticed it too was subtly different. It was lacking the scars Tom's had, and some of the calluses.

"And your friend? Jordon…. Two Delta?"

"Sleeping," Lincoln replied. "Upstairs." He sounded breathless, even a little giddy. Tom turned to look at him, immediately reminded of someone once telling him that his smile was infectious. How true that was.

"Guest bedroom, then," Tom said, grinning back at himself.

Once inside his spare bedroom, Tom immediately pushed Lincoln against the wall.

"What-" Lincoln was cut off.

"Shhh," Tom insisted, before kissing him again. This time, however, he was not about to hold back. He kissed his product passionately and thoroughly, pressing up against him and pinning him there. Lincoln moaned: Long and enthusiastically. Heartened, Tom pushed his hands under Lincoln's sweater, skimming his palms up his stomach and ribs. He broke their kiss to strip him to the waist before attacking his neck, knowing full well it was an extremely sensitive place. Lincoln was panting unevenly now, and quite obviously aroused. Tom bit him gently, and Lincoln whimpered in a desperate sort of way.

"Tom, I, Mmnnh," he mumbled, his incoherency making Tom pause. He looked Lincoln in the eye, slotting a knee between his product's. Pressing up with it, he was treated to another of Lincoln's moans. Tom was sure he'd never been so wonderfully responsive. Maybe he should start. It certainly looked good on him. Suddenly, he was struck with a thought.

"Wait, let me guess," he said, pushing up a little more. "This is your first hard-on, right?" Lincoln just looked at him, his eyes a haze of bewilderment and arousal. "Fantastic." Tom pulled him from the wall and pushed him to the bed. "Lie down, Lincoln." He did as he was told with no hesitation, scooting up to cushion his head on the pillows. Tom followed suit, moving to straddle him and stripping off his own shirt, flinging it off in a corner. Lincoln arched up a little under him, hesitantly putting his hands on Tom's hips.

"What," he swallowed, "what do I do?" Tom almost laughed. He hadn't been with a virgin since college, and this…this was like some sort of super-virgin.

"You just lie there." With that, Tom returned his attentions to Lincoln's neck, biting and sucking a path to his collarbone, tracing that with his tongue before moving on to his chest. He mouthed a nipple, thinking that this had to be pedophilia or incest or _something_. Maybe it was masturbation.

By the time Tom reached his clone's navel, the man seemed like one continuous moan. Tom could tell he was about to lose it. Pausing his ministrations long enough to undo the fly on Lincoln's borrowed jeans, he pulled them down to his knees, pleased to find he hadn't bothered with underwear. That task done, he returned to his teasing: nipping at a thigh, swiping his tongue across a hipbone, kissing and marking until once again reaching Lincoln's belly button.

"Lincoln," he husked before dipping his tongue into the indentation. His clone just whimpered and shuddered in response. "Do you know what an orgasm is, Lincoln?" The man under him shook his head no, hands bunching the linen on the bed. "Well you're about to have one."

With no warning whatsoever, Lincoln felt his most private of parts engulfed by an unbearably magnificent wet heat. Tom's _mouth _was on him. His tongue and his lips and his _teeth_. Lincoln was not given time for a single coherent thought before the tightness in his stomach increased to an almost painful degree and an indescribable sensation shot through him, stealing all thought and capacity for speech in a rush of muscle contractions and heat that seemed to burst from him with blinding flashes of light behind his eyes. When the flashes subsided, Lincoln realized that his body was wracked with shudders like he was freezing, and Tom was looking down at him with an amused grin on his face, licking his lips. Lincoln thought the prospect of passing out was quite probable.

"Do you know what you just said?" Tom asked, leaning up to nuzzle his neck. Lincoln blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his mind enough to answer.

"What I said?" he managed. Tom nipped at his neck.

"Yes, you said, 'Fuck, Tom!' I didn't think they'd teach you words like that."

"They didn't…I, I didn't know I knew that word."

"Well you used it eloquently! You might want to get some sleep now. You look like you're about to pass out." Tom slid from atop Lincoln's legs, smoothing his jeans. "I'm going to have a shower. Get rid of my problem, you know." He pointed to his groin and winked before sauntering out of the bedroom door. Lincoln just lay there, head spinning, until the sound of running water lulled him to sleep.

When Tom returned from his liberating wank in the shower, he found that his clone was as good at taking orders as he was at asking stupid questions. Lincoln was sprawled in his bed, jeans still pulled down around his knees, arm thrown over his eyes. What an experience _this_ had been.

'It's a shame,' Tom thought, pulling a sheet over his mirror image, 'that I am not ready to die.'


End file.
